"Your subconscious," Clifford repeated with a hint of a smile. "That's what it was. You've always had a lucky subconscious."
Ella wasn't sure what was going on in Clifford's head, but she was sure she didn't want to know. He was just trying to distract her with his own brand of magical double-talk. "I can help you, but you're going to have to trust me all the way. We share the danger, so this isn't the time for secrets between us. There's too much at stake."
Wilson looked at Clifford. "Your sister has shown you loyalty. She's jeopardizing the career she loves by protecting you from the police, even though she doesn't agree with what you're doing."
"All right." Clifford glanced at the empty stretch of highway before them. "Where are we going, and how long will it take to get there? What I have to tell you is difficult, and not something I can explain in a few minutes."
"I'm still trying to figure out where you'll be safe. For the moment, I just want to get as far from here as possible, and stay off the more traveled routes. To a cop, this truck would stand out like a sore thumb."
"No one else will give it a glance," Clifford said. "Beat-up trucks are a dime a dozen around here."
"I have an idea," Wilson said. "What about that abandoned gas station just east of where they used to hold the turkey shoots?"
"The cinder-block place where the bootleggers store their shipments of beer?" Clifford asked.
"That's the one. Everyone knows about it, but no one says anything, because the Tache family really needs the money. Since it's such a small-time operation, the cops have always left it alone. That's not likely to change soon."
"I like that. Good idea," Ella agreed. She remembered where it was, too.
"All right," Clifford chimed in.
"Now, the answers you promised," she prodded. "We're at least forty minutes from the station."
Her brother took a slow, deep breath, then let it out again. "I believe that the skinwalkers want the area surrounding the church and the college because of the inherent evil that resides there. They want to tap into its strength and use it for their own ends. That's why they have to stop the church from being constructed—they can't afford to have that ground consecrated. It would weaken the magic there. Even if you don't believe in magic yourself, Sister, you must recognize that others do and are willing to act on such beliefs. Believe me, their motivation is strong."
"So the problem isn't really the college, just the church."
"No, not at all," Clifford answered. "They want that area to remain deserted for their rites. The college will bring in a lot more people and threaten their secrecy. Plus, once it's finished, hataaliis will gather from everywhere to perform special ceremonies at the dedication. That might also destroy the power the skinwalkers want to harness and protect."
"If Sings would stop these jerks, couldn't our Singers do the ceremonies now?"
"No. Remember, our rites are very specific. It's a lie to perform a ceremony for a building that isn't there. Any cer-
BLACKENING SONS X 233
emony that is false will not be heard. It could even make things worse."
Wilson glanced at Clifford, then Ella. "In the long run," he said, "there's only one answer. We have to expose the skinwalkers hidden among us, identify every single one of them. If we don't, they'll undermine everything the tribe is trying to accomplish."
"I believe that there are specific locations within that area where the evil is particularly concentrated," Clifford said. "I suspect the skinwalkers have already held ceremonies over these places."
"Where?"
"One is right above the old church." A squad car approached; Ella asked Clifford to duck down. The unit went by without slowing.
"The skinwalkers have miscalculated. They've inadvertently turned you into a double threat, Big Brother," Ella mused, after giving him the okay to sit up again. "As the manhunt for you continues, Blalock and the police keep broadening their search patterns. They could easily stumble onto one of these secret ceremonies."
It took over an hour to get to the gas station—the pickup had begun to overheat and Ella had had to ease up on the gas pedal. She hoped the truck hadn't suffered damage that would wind up stranding them somewhere. She drove around to the rear of the building, where they'd be hidden from the road. Ella surveyed the surrounding area. "I don't like this. It's too open."
"That's what makes it ideal," Wilson said. "No one can sneak up on Old Man Tache here. And the phone line works," he added. "All you have to do is put in a quarter."
"How do you know this?" Ella asked with a tiny smile.
Wilson cleared his throat. "Everyone knows it."
"Try again/'
"I've bought a six-pack or two here on a hot summer day," he admitted.
Ella chuckled softly. "Wait here for me."
She went inside the building and checked out the gas station's boarded-up office, then the garage area. Finding it empty, she returned to the truck. "It's clear for now, but if they're using this as a drop-off, there's no telling how long that'll last."
Wilson walked inside with Clifford. "I doubt there'll be another shipment for a month, maybe more. FB-Eyes is making too many waves, and it's got people nervous."
Ella joined them. "How reliable are your sources?" she asked Wilson pointedly.
"We're reasonably safe using this place," Wilson said flatly. "Tache follows the old ways. Of course, if you can think of someplace better ..."
Ella considered. "No," she answered at last, then looked at Clifford. "But it's your call. You're taking the biggest chance. Until we can discover the identity of at least some of our enemies, you have to remain hidden. While they're looking for you, I'll look for them."
"I'll stay here then. I can even pull my truck inside and keep it out of sight, if I have to. I'd prefer to play it safe and hide it in the desert. Somebody will have to bring it here— it's in an arroyo, about a mile north of the hogan, covered with shrubs. I doubt our attackers found it."
"I'll get it. I have to go back anyway," Wilson said. "My truck's still there, too. The ones who ambushed us won't stick around. It should be safe enough, now, for me to reclaim it."
Ella nodded in agreement. "We'll both go. I want to search your vehicle and find that homing device. But we
BLACKENING SONO X 235
might have to leave your truck where it is," Ella told Clifford. "The police and Blalock are looking for it."
"They won't recognize it; I painted it green, then weathered it a lot." Clifford shrugged.
"That was smart," Ella conceded.
Wilson nodded in agreement, then glanced at Ella. "I understand homing devices are very small. My truck's pretty big. What if we can't find it?"
"We will, don't worry. I'm very good at searches."
Ella and Wilson drove back in her father's truck, which was operating normally again despite the bullet hole and broken or missing glass.
After delivering Clifford's admirably disguised truck to a new hiding place, and stopping at the gas station to tell him where they'd left it, they drove back to the area where the shooting had begun. They had wanted to put that off until last to ensure that their attackers had time to leave the area completely.
About an hour before sundown they arrived at the spot where Wilson had left his truck, some distance from the hogan. They circled the area first, seeing tracks, but no sign that anyone was still around. Ella checked the boot prints, but none was very revealing.
"Looks like I won't be taking that truck anywhere tonight," Wilson said, gesturing to the flat rear tire.
"Don't you have a spare?"
He gave her a sheepish smile. "You're looking at it. I blew out a tire last week and haven't had a chance to get it repaired." He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "My cousin Ed will drive out with a spare. He won't ask any questions."
"Let me look it over while we're here. I still want to find that homing device before the sun sets."
"I'll hold a flashlight for you,"
Wilson offered. "It's dark underneath the truck."
Ella went over the truck with a practiced eye and touch. Locating explosives and listening devices was all part of her training. A homing device was just another form of transmitter. She checked the bumpers, then the wheel wells. Moving inside, she ran her hands carefully over the upholstery, then searched the steering column and underneath the dashboard. Not finding anything there, she went back to the outside. Ella jumped up onto the bed of the truck, but found nothing unusual. Finally she crawled beneath the truck, looking up into the area where the spare tire was kept. Nothing was visible from below, so she ran her hand along the top of a metal bracket that normally held the tire in place.
"Got it!" She removed a small magnetic device, about the size of a large button, emerged from under the truck, and studied the bug for several moments. "You can easily get these through electronic warehouses, and I know of a guy who got one through a survivalist's catalogue. This is going to be difficult to trace. It was placed after you had the flat, but would have taken only a few seconds to attach. I'm afraid it won't tell us much about its owner."
"It doesn't matter; you couldn't have taken it to the police without leaving yourself open to a lot of questions. For one thing, they're sure to wonder why someone would put this on my vehicle. Since they know I'm Clifford's friend, they're bound to start watching me more closely. They may even think FB-Eyes did it, though if Blalock had bugged my truck he would have used a better bug."
"You're right about all that."
Ella hurled the tiny device as far as she could, sending it
BLACKENING SONG X 237
straight into the desert. "Maybe some packrat will pick it up and carry it around, and keep them running in circles."
"We can always hope."
"Come on. I'm beginning to see why Dad loved his old truck. They don't make them this tough anymore."
Silence stretched between them as they headed back to the now-familiar stretch of highway. The sun had finally gone down, and something was telling her that they needed to get out of the area fast. She concentrated on driving, turning on the headlights to see clearly.
"Do you feel it?" Wilson asked in a hushed voice. "The gathering shadows, since sunset . . . Well, they just don't feel right."
Ella heard the mournful wails of coyotes or wolves faintly in the distance and had to suppress a shudder. She suddenly felt as frightened as a lost child.
"It gives me the creeps," she answered with deliberate, concealing evenness. "It won't be much longer before we reach the highway, though."
In the beam of the truck's headlights, they saw a large dog ahead, trying to drag itself out of their path. "That poor thing," she said, "somebody hit it with a car. It's leaving a trail of blood."
"Don't even think of getting out of this truck," Wilson said flatly.
"I wasn't," she assured him. "It's feral, and it might not understand that we're no threat to it."
As they drew near, the injured animal seemed to abruptly recapture its strength. Its limp vanished. It whirled to face them. In the blink of an eye it jumped onto the truck's hood, jaws snapping viciously.
"What the ... It's a coyote!"
238 X AIMEE & PAVIP THURLO
''Don't stop. Drive on!" Wilson yelled.
Before Ella could react, another coyote jumped into the bed of the pickup. Growling, teeth bared, it stuck its head through the gaping hole in the rear window.
Ella drew her pistol and fired, hitting the coyote squarely between the eyes. As the animal staggered and fell back, she turned and fired again at the creature on the hood, striking it. She gunned the accelerator. The wounded coyote, yelped and dropped to one side, rolling off as Ella sped toward the highway.
After they'd traveled several hundred yards, Wilson released his death grip on the dashboard. "Okay, slow down. We can't take that thing in the truck bed back into town with us."
"Why not?" Ella's ears were still ringing. She shook her head, trying to clear the annoying buzz. "That's precisely what I was going to do. Maybe there's an outbreak of rabies or something. That was not normal behavior for a coyote. And don't try to tell me those were skinwalkers; those animals were the real thing."
"How do you know that?" Wilson asked.
"Didn't you get a look at them? They were mangy-looking, half-starved."
"And what did you expect?"
She started to speak, then pressed her lips together and slowed the truck. "We've all heard stories that wolves or coyotes with turned-down tails are really skinwalkers, but these animals looked like the real thing to me. They were crazy, out of control, but nothing marked them as anything other than coyotes."
"You're looking for signs of humanity within the form of the beast, but you won't find it. Those who choose to fol-
BLACKENING SONC X 239
low evil eventually lose themselves and become more beast than man."
"I don't accept that," she said, shaking her head. "Every instance of magic like theirs has a logical explanation if you look into it closely enough."
"You've seen a lot of things since coming home that can't be explained with conventional knowledge and logic. You're fighting yourself by trying to make sense out of something that operates under rules you don't understand. There's too much at stake for that kind of confusion."
"And what would you have me do with the animal in the bed of the truck? It's dead. You can see that for yourself. No living creature can survive a hollow-point nine-millimeter slug in its skull at point-blank range."
"We have to burn the body."
"At least let scavengers take it," she argued.
"We have to set fire to it," he repeated adamantly.
"Look, are you sure you want to do this now? I really don't want to hang around out here ..."
"I'm sure," he said, interrupting her. "Let's get to it. This is an open stretch. We'd see anyone approaching in plenty of time to react."
She didn't share his confidence, and the weight of her pistol was of very little comfort. The last thing she wanted was to face another assault. She only had a few rounds left in her clip.
Ella and Wilson worked quickly to build a fire. Once the flames were going strong, Wilson uttered a prayer for protection and dragged the animal into the fire. Flames licked the carcass; a putrid smell rose into the air. Ella began to cough. "It smells like a sewer!"
"Get downwind, but we have to stay until it's consumed."
"Hey, I went along with you on this, but we have to get out of here. The fire won't spread, and I'm not—"
The air was shattered by an unearthly howl. The creature jumped up amid the flames, its body covered in bright orange tongues.
Ella stared at it for an endless instant. It wasn't possible. The animal should be dead. But as the beast leaped for her throat, she fired again and again.
Her finger kept snapping the trigger long after she'd run out of rounds. The thing collapsed back into the fire.
Beside Ella, Wilson kept his gaze on the creature until the flames turned it into a black, shapeless mass. "It's over."
Suddenly wild howling rang out all around them. The sound rose until it became an ear splitting wail.
Wilson grabbed her arm and half dragged, half raced Ella to the truck. "Drive! And don't stop for anyone!"
"You should trust me to do that, and stay put/'
"I'm trusting you to help Loretta and Mom. I don't expect you to do it all, or to work miracles. You're the only one who expects that." Clifford looked her straight in the eye.
"You may have a point." Ella glanced at her watch. "I'd better be going. I've got to pick up Mom at the chapter house. She's at the fund-raising meeting the progressives called on behalf of the college, to pay for landscaping and outdoor sculptures."
"I'm surprised she went to that. I didn't think she'd want to get actively involved, particularly on the night of the Enemy Dance. I realize that these days the dance is mostly a summer social, but some of us still take it
very seriously. It used to be done only when needed, to eliminate contamination from outsiders and their influences. Only we traditionalists realize that the tribe is in dire need of it right now." Clifford turned his head to watch as a car full of Navajo teens drove slowly down the highway. The hollow thump of amplified music reached them despite the distance.
"The meeting will be over before the dance starts. Our mother wouldn't have gone if she thought there was a conflict. The only reason she went was because she was invited by an old friend of father's."
"Is our professor friend going to the ceremonial?" Clifford reached for a can of cola Ella had brought him, along with a few sandwiches.
"I don't know. Even if he is there, I'm going to be too busy to socialize. I need to use this opportunity, while most of the community is present, to find out if anybody is talking about our little shoot-out, or if anyone is missing or injured. Hopefully I'll be able to pick up something."
Clifford shook his head. "Remember, part of the eve-
BLACKENING SONG X 243
ning is still a religious ceremony. For it to bless the tribe, onlookers have to help the participants by keeping their thoughts on the ritual."
Ella could have argued with Clifford. A meeting like that was the ideal time to observe, especially in light of what had been going on recently. But she knew she wouldn't convince him of the validity of her point of view. She'd just do what she had to.
She stood. "The meeting should be over soon." Smiling at Clifford, and giving him a thumbs-up, Ella walked through the brush to a low spot that was out of sight from the road. Her father's pickup was too shot-up to drive around without raising eyebrows. It was parked in Wilson's garage, out of sight. Ella had told her mother it was being worked on, and had leased a new truck in Farmington.
Less than an hour later, Ella arrived at the chapter house, where the meeting was still going full blast. Ella wasn't surprised to hear loud voices coming from inside the building. According to custom, issues were debated until everyone could vote unanimously. That often took a very long time.
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